The Records Office was exactly what Roslyn expected— clean, organized, and utterly boring.

  Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, packed with ledgers and rolled documents tied with faded ribbon. The smell of old paper and ink hung in the air. A single clerk sat at a desk near the entrance, an elderly man who barely looked up when Roslyn walked in.

  "Help you?" he muttered.

  "I'm looking for property records," Roslyn said, putting on her best uncertain smile. "For Millbrook? I'm thinking of... well, maybe moving there, and I wanted to know what it's like. The yout, property values, that sort of thing?"

  The clerk gestured vaguely toward the back. "Director's office. Through there."

  Roslyn followed his direction through a narrow corridor lined with more shelves. At the end was a door marked "Director of Records - M . Whitfield Townmouse." She knocked.

  "Come in."

  The office was small but meticulously organized. More shelves, more ledgers, everything beled and sorted with precision that bordered on obsessive. And behind the desk sat an mouse woman who looked up at Roslyn with sharp, intelligent eyes behind wire-rimmed gsses.

  Townmouse.

  She was cute and petite in a librarian sort of way. With gray-brown fur, neat whiskers, and ears that twitched slightly as she assessed her visitor. She wore a sensible dark blue dress with a high colr and long sleeves, professional and practical. No jewelry except a simple silver pin at her throat. Everything about her said *efficient* and *no-nonsense.*

  "Yes?" Townmouse's voice was crisp. "Can I help you?"

  "I hope so," Roslyn said, widening her eyes just a fraction. Confused but eager. Harmless. "I'm interested in relocating to Millbrook, and I wanted to learn more about the town. Property values, the yout, what areas are good for... well, for someone like me."

  Townmouse's whiskers twitched. "Someone like you."

  "I mean—" Roslyn ughed, a self-deprecating sound. "I'm not wealthy or anything. Just looking for a fresh start. Somewhere quiet. Safe."

  *Somewhere with a magical surveilnce harp and a drug-dealing mayor I need to rob.*

  Townmouse studied her for a moment longer, then stood. "Millbrook. That's Mayor Jack's territory."

  "Yes, I've heard he's done wonderful things for the town."

  "He has." Townmouse moved to one of her shelves and pulled down a rge rolled map. "Popution has nearly doubled in the past five years. New construction, improved roads, better trade routes." She unrolled the map on her desk, weighing down the corners with smooth stones that were clearly kept for that purpose. "This is the current town yout."

  Roslyn leaned in, studying it. The map showed Millbrook's streets and districts clearly marked—residential areas, merchant quarter, the town square. But it was basic. Surface level. Nothing about building interiors, nothing about where someone like Jack might keep his most prized possessions.

  *Not what I need. But it's a start.*

  "Oh, this is helpful," Roslyn said, tracing a finger along one of the main roads. "Is this the market district?"

  "Yes. High Street runs through the center of town." Townmouse pointed with one cwed finger. "Property values are highest here and here—near the square and along the river. More affordable housing is in the outer districts."

  "And where does the mayor live?"

  "Here." Townmouse tapped a spot near the town center. "Though it's a private residence. Not open to the public."

  *Of course it isn't.*

  Roslyn tilted her head, making her expression thoughtful. "This is wonderful, but... is there more detail? Like, I'd love to know about specific buildings. What's new construction versus old? Which areas are well-maintained?"

  Town Mouse's expression didn't change, but Roslyn caught the slight tightening around her eyes. Impatience, maybe. Or suspicion.

  "Those details would require more specialized maps," Townmouse said. "Building surveys, architectural records. That's not typically information we provide for general inquiries."

  "Oh." Roslyn let disappointment color her voice. "I just want to make sure I'm making the right choice, you know? Moving is such a big decision."

  Town Mouse's whiskers twitched again. She rolled up the map with efficient movements. "I can provide you with general town information and property value assessments. If you need architectural specifics, you'd need to submit a formal request with justification."

  *Can't push too hard. Not yet.*

  "That makes sense," Roslyn said, nodding. "Could I... maybe come back? Look at these maps again? I want to make sure I remember everything correctly."

  Townmouse hesitated, then gave a short nod. "The office is open from eight to five, six days a week. You're welcome to return during those hours."

  "Thank you so much. You've been very helpful."

  Townmouse moved back toward her desk, clearly ready to end the interaction. Roslyn turned to leave.

  She stopped.

  There, on the corner of Town Mouse's desk, was a small painting. Maybe six inches by eight inches, in a simple wooden frame. The kind of thing you might gnce at and dismiss as decoration.

  But Roslyn didn't dismiss it.

  The painting showed a woman—a very beautiful woman—lying on her side in grass. She was completely nude, her body rendered in soft, precise brushstrokes that made her skin seem to glow in painted sunlight. Her curves were elegant, natural, her dark hair spilling across the grass like silk. One hand rested near her hip, fingers just barely grazing her pale skin, the gesture hovering between innocent and intimate. It was artful. Cssy. But unmistakably erotic.

  The woman's face was turned slightly away, eyes closed, expression peaceful. Almost like she was sleeping.

  *Oh.*

  Roslyn's pulse quickened.

  She looked away quickly, but not before Townmouse noticed her gaze. The mouse woman's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. Awareness, maybe. Or challenge.

  "Is there anything else?" Townmouse asked, her tone perfectly neutral.

  "No," Roslyn said, keeping her voice light. "No, I think that's everything. Thank you again."

  "Of course."

  Roslyn turned and walked out, keeping her steps casual, unhurried. But her mind was racing.

  *A nude woman. In a frame. On her desk. In a professional office.*

  That wasn't accidental. That wasn't just "art." That was a statement. A very specific statement that Townmouse was either comfortable enough or bold enough to dispy in her workspace.

  Roslyn stepped out into the street, the afternoon sun bright after the dim office. She took a breath, organizing her thoughts.

  The maps were too basic. She'd need to come back, build rapport, work her way up to requesting more detailed information. And now she knew how to do it.

  *Townmouse likes women.*

  Roslyn had used her looks before. Had flirted and pyed coquette and worn low-cut dresses to distract men while she gathered intelligence. It was a tool in her arsenal, nothing more.

  But this...

  This was different.

  She thought about Jasmine. About that moment on the terrace, the almost-kiss, the way her pulse had raced. The way she'd wanted it.

  *Could I do that again? Deliberately this time?*

  Roslyn pulled her red hood up and started walking back toward the inn where the crew was staying. She'd need to return to the Records Office in a day or two. Give Townmouse time to forget her, then come back with new questions. Build the connection slowly.